


The Spy

by SunflowerSupreme



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Mix of Show and Book Canon, PTSD, Rape, Torture, Trauma, or in this case: yennefer begrudgingly rescuing jaskier, yennefer and jaskier grudgingly getting along is my jam
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22134355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Nilfgard will stop at nothing to find Ciri.Yennefer, unwilling, plays the hero.
Comments: 83
Kudos: 327





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the books, Dandelion is actually grabbed by some Nilfgardians in a brothel and rescued by Yen after they beat him up for a bit, but hey, I like angst so let's make it worse.

Yennefer hung on the edge of the Nilfgardian encampment, blending into the shadows. She’d been passing by, telling herself that she was done being involved, done playing the hero. But then she’d stopped.

Geralt’s name was on their lips.

She had no intention of leaving until she knew why.

The commanders she’d heard speaking disappeared into the fortress, and she slid after him, calling forward a cloak of darkness with a wave of her hand. Ahead of her, they were still talking, discussing an informant they were hoping would aid them to track the Witcher.

“He’s has further information?” asked the smaller of the two.

The taller man shook his head. “He’s a fool - we should have known better than to find him at all useful. We should have thrown him out weeks ago.”

Yennefer frowned, stepping closer.

“He’s a bard.”

She froze, shaking her head slightly. No. No it couldn’t be. Jaskier wouldn’t.

Leaving the commanders to their continued argument, Yennefer hurried down into the bottom of the fortress. Jaskier had to be there somewhere, and once she found him, she was going to drag him back to Geralt. Or perhaps she’s just take his head.

She went room by room, peering through keyholes and doing whatever she could to not be noticed, to not disturb the inhabitants of the fortress. But there was no sign of Jaskier.

Just as she was about to give up and use a spell to find him, the commanders from before passed her, then paused at an intersection of hallways. “Tell them we’re done with him,” said the taller.

Without a second thought, Yennefer hurried after the smaller man. He walked through the fortress with a purpose, the heels of his shiny boots clicking on the floor. They walked down a long hallway, then another, then turned and went down a steep set of stairs to the basement.

Yennefer frowned.

The small man pushed open a door at the bottom of the stairs. Thankfully, he didn’t bother to close it, and Yennefer ducked through easily. She wrinkled her nose at the sight. There were three soldiers in the room, along with what she could only assume was a camp prostitute they’d been playing with. The prostitute was shrouded in darkness, but clearly on their knees, pleasuring one of the soldiers as the other two sat at a table, playing cards.

“We’re done with him,” the commander said. “He has no further information.”

“I’m not,” said one of the men at the card table. “I’m up next.”

Yennefer’s blood ran cold. _No-_

“I don’t care what you do with him, but silence him when you’re done,” said the commander. “Fuck him, skin him- just slit his throat when you’re done.”

“Would you like a turn?”

Whether he did or didn’t they never found out, because the commander suddenly fell forward, a shard of ice sticking through his throat. The two men at the table jumped for their weapons, but Yennefer waved her hand, opening a portal that would strand them in the middle of a drowner nest, and they accidentally jumped through it in their haste to grab their weapons.

The man with Jaskier shoved him aside, knocking the bard to the ground where he went motionless. For a moment, she debated playing with him a bit -letting him hurt - but she stopped herself. The bard would need her.

Instead, she summoned a blast of fire and burned him alive from the inside out.

The smell of charred flesh hung in the air as she knelt beside Jaskier, rolling the bard onto his side carefully. He blinked.

“Jaskier,” she said. “Jaskier what have you told them?”

“Everything,” the bard sobbed. “I’ve told you all I know, please, no more- kill me, end it-”

She shook her head, calling open another portal and then dragged him, still crying and protesting his ignorance, through it. “Shut up, bard” she snarled. “I’m saving your sorry hide.” 

His lute was sitting in the corner, and she grabbed it, knowing he'd only pitch a fit if she left it.


	2. Chapter 2

With nowhere else to take him, Yennefer took him back to her shop in Vengerberg. She jumped them through two other portals - to places that didn’t matter - first, just in case the Nilfgardians thought to track her with a mage. She chucked the two dead men’s bodies through the portal as well, and hoped that they would just assume the men had killed Jaskier and then gotten shit faced and gone missing.

She probably wouldn’t be that lucky, but she could hope.

The portal opened up in the middle of her storeroom and she stepped out, dragging the sobbing bard behind her. Then the portal snapped shut.

She knelt in front of him, tilting his head back. “Jaskier, do you know who I am?”

He blinked at her slowly. “Witch. Crazy witch.” There was less venom than usual in his tone when he addressed her, none of his usual distaste for her. “Geralt.”

“No,” she said. “Geralt isn’t here.”

“Are you-” Jaskier licked his cracked lips, something other than spit leaking from the corner of his mouth. He raised his hand to wipe at it, then moaned and spat it out. Judging by the smell, it was his attacker's semen. 

Yennefer wiped him with a cloth with a disgusted scowl. “Geralt,” she said with a heavy sigh. “Is going to owe me a lot of favors for this, bard.”

“You- you aren’t with them?”

“With who?”

He looked around, then dropped his voice, leaning forward. “The soldiers.”

“They died.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and Yennefer stood, grabbing him and once again dragging him across the floor. “If you could stand, this would be a lovely time to do so.” But he didn’t even try, still mumbling to himself softly.

She pulled him into her bathing room, which was the part of the house she’d spent the most money on. Perhaps it was vain - and she could have spent the coin on her treatments instead - but she enjoyed it. Damn it she should be allowed to enjoy something.

Leaving him to lean against the wall, she stomped off, returning with her arms full of herbs and treatments. “I’m tallying all of this,” she told him. “And you and your Witcher friend can pay me back.”

“He’s not my friend.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jaskier, you’re Geralt’s only friend.”

Jaskier only shook his head, then dropped his chin onto his chest weakly.

She knelt beside him, tearing away what remained of his filthy shirt, running an appraising eye over his wounds. He’d been tortured - burned, whipped, sliced - and she’d been a fool to think he was a willing spy. Jaskier was too much of a fool for that.

Someone had patched up his wounds- clearly, they’d wanted him alive - so she wasted no time in trying to get the rest of his stinking clothes off him.

Jaskier yelped when she reached for his pants, grabbing her wrist and sobbing. “Oh please,” he begged. “No, no, no- it hurts- no more-”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Jaskier, you ordinarily can’t wait to get your pants off,” the sorceress said.

“I- I can’t take anymore,” he sobbed, curling his knees to his chest. His eyes were vacant, as though he was no longer aware of where he was.

Yennefer swore. With a snap of her fingers, Jaskier fell asleep. “Trust me, bard,” she growled, pretending not to feel the pity in her chest. “I have no interest in fucking you.”

Once she got him cleaned she wrapped him in one of her own robes - and damn, she’d liked that robe and wasn’t pleased about giving it up - she went into her shop, grabbed a magic charm, and snapped it in half.

Then she waited.

It didn’t take long before a portal appeared and Triss Merigold stepped through it, giving Yennefer a curious look.

“I need two things,” Yennefer said curtly before Triss could question her as to why she’d summoned her.

“Only two?” Triss smiled.

“First, I need men’s clothing. Discretely.”

“Discrete men’s clothing?”

“No,” Yennefer corrected. “I need men’s clothing and I need no one to know that I need it.”

“I know, Yenna.”

The black-haired sorceress sighed. “Geralt’s pet bard, have you met him?”

“Geralt’s pet- bard?” Triss raised an eyebrow. “Yen?” she asked worriedly. “Yen what-”

“Yes or no?”

“No,” Triss shook her head. “I’ve met Geralt and I’ve heard the ballads, but-”

“His name is Julian Alfred Pankratz,” Yennefer said. “Find me everything you can on him.”

Triss nodded slowly. “Men’s clothing and information,” she said. “But only because you’re my friend.”

“And Triss?” Yennefer asked.

“Yes?”

“We never had this conversation.”

* * *

Jaskier slept for two full days in Yennefer’s spare room.

She opened her shop and pretended that it was business as usual, serving the needs of whatever rich lords and ladies could afford her services. Triss finally returned after on the second day, stepping through the door with a bundle in her arms.

“Lock the door,” said Yennefer, shutting the blinds with a snap of her fingers.

“Yenna,” Triss said, sitting the clothing down on the table. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“I have him.”

“Him?”

“The bard.”

“Yenna, I know you’re upset with Geralt- but don’t you think-”

“I didn’t kidnap him!” Yennefer gave her friend an offended look. “Is that what you think of me?”

Triss said nothing, but a grin twitched at the edge of her mouth.

“I rescued him,” Yennefer confessed. “Nilfgard they-” she looked around out of habit, ensuring they were truly alone. “They’re hunting Geralt.”

“And they thought Julian would have information?”

Yennefer nodded. “I- I couldn’t leave him, Triss,” she said. “They’d tortured him and-” she swallowed, gripping the edge of the table and hanging her head. “They’d raped him.”

Triss sucked in a soft breath, her eyes widening. “Have you told Geralt?”

“I don’t know where he is!”

“The Witcher’s Keep,” Triss said softly. “He must be-”

“Well, of course, he’s there!” Yennefer snapped. “But where is it? North? I don’t have time to find it!”

“I can. I’ll find it for you, Yenna.”

Before Yennefer could nod, a weak cry echoed out, coming from her spare room. “Stay here,” she hissed, before hurrying off.

Jaskier was sitting up in bed, the blanket pulled up to his chest, his eyes wide. “Witch,” he said when he saw her.

“Yennefer,” she snarled.

“Geralt.”

“He’s not here.” Triss hadn’t stayed behind like she’s requested, and was standing in the door to the spare room, peering over Yennefer’s shoulder.

“Witch.”

“Yes, I’m a sorceress as well.”

“Geralt.”

The women exchanged looks. “Jaskier,” Triss asked, stepping forward carefully. “Jaskier, what are you talking about?”

He didn’t move, still staring ahead blankly. Finally, Triss reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder, making a soothing noise. “Tell me-”

“No!” He pulled back, slapping her hand away. Then his face seemed to clear. “Yennefer.”

“I’m here, bard,” she grumbled.

His eyes flicked to her, then back to Triss. “Who-”

“Triss Merigold,” she said kindly, holding out her hand. “A friend, of Geralt and Yennefer.”

His breathing sped up, as though on the edge of panic. Licking his lips he said, “I-I told them Geralt would go to- to you- to Vengerberg.”

“Shit,” Yennefer moaned.

“He- he’s probably north- the witcher keep - fuck, I don’t know where it is- but I- I lied. That- it seemed best- was it? Did I-”

“Julian-” Triss began.

“He told me to leave- I did- I haven’t seen him in months- oh fuck, Yennefer- they- they-” he suddenly bent over, his sides spasming as though vomiting. But he’d barely eaten in days, and all that came up was a bit of spittle, which leaked from the corners of his mouth.

Triss sat beside him, rubbing his back gently. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re safe here, they won’t find you.”

“What if Fringilla comes looking for him here?” Yennefer hissed. “If they find Jaskier here-”

“Come to Temeria,” Triss said. “Foltest won’t need to know. You and Jaskier both will be safe there until-”

“No.” Yennefer shook her head. “I’ll stay here. If they come, I’ll be honest. I rescued the bard by chance, I’ll offer him back-”

“What?!” cried Triss.

At the exact same time, Jaskier let out a wail. Yennefer hurried forward, grabbing his arm. “Jaskier, listen, I’m not handing you back!”

“You- you said-”

“I’ll offer you back. Fringilla won’t want you, I’m certain of it. Then, I’ll-”

“You tried to kill her?” Triss pointed out. “If they come here, it won’t be for a friendly visit.”

Yennefer moaned. “Damn, it bard, you are nothing but trouble!” She shook her head, then finally said, “Fine. I’ll take him to Temeria.”


	3. Chapter 3

Triss took them to her small workshop below the palace.

Jaskier said nothing the entire time, remaining silent as Yennefer led him through the portal, then to a chair. He sat, pulled his knees to his chest, and closed his eyes.

“Would you like tea?” Triss asked hopefully.

Jaskier only shrugged.

“He would,” Yennefer said for him, following behind Triss as she walked toward her fireplace.

“Were you able to find his family?” Yennefer asked softly.

Triss sighed, hanging the pot over the fire. “I was.”

“And?”

“Why?”

“I thought-”

“You thought about taking him to them?” Yennefer said nothing, so Triss continued, “They won’t welcome him.”

Yennefer sighed, sitting on the ground and folding her arms. “Very well,” she grumbled. When the tea was finished, Triss held out a cup to Jaskier, but he didn’t accept it, staring at her blankly.

With a dramatic sigh, Yennefer took the cup and held it out, pressing it to his lips. “Drink, bard.”

He did as he was told. Then he curled up and put his head on Yennefer’s shoulder. The sorceress’ eyes widened, but she said nothing, her gaze flicking to Triss as though begging him to move her. Instead, Triss pursed her lips and made an expression as though she was admiring cute puppies.

Yennefer glared but made no motion to move the bard, who was still trembling slightly.

_I’ll find Geralt,_ murmured Triss’ voice in her mind.

_How long will it take?_

_I don’t know,_ confessed Triss. I’m not entirely certain where to find him, _but I’ll go as quickly as I can._

Yennefer nodded, watching as Triss hurried about her home, gathering up supplies for her trek north. _No one should trouble you here,_ said Triss as she wrapped herself in a thick coat. _But don’t open the door to anyone._

_Trust me, I didn’t intend to._

Once she had everything, she bid goodbye to Yennefer, gave Jaskier an awkward pat on the shoulder that made him whimper and stepped through a portal.

“Well, bard,” Yennefer grumbled. “It looks like it’s just us.”

Jaskier snored.

* * *

Jaskier didn’t seem to improve.

Physically his condition changed tremendously. He wandered Triss’s home on unsteady legs, peering at things curiously. When he reached to touch, Yennefer would cluck her tongue at him and he’d pull back with a whimper.

So yes, while he was certainly improving physically, his mental state hadn’t changed much at all. He still would sit and repeat Geralt’s name quietly, wrapping his arms around his legs, thumping his forehead against the wall. Yennefer, despite a voice in her head telling her to abandon him, would sit beside him, one hand on his shoulder, and talk to him softly.

Sometimes she told him about herself - nothing of importance, just things that were common knowledge - sometimes she told him about the other sorceresses or recited bits of magical theory. He didn’t seem to understand any of it, but he clearly loved every second of it and seemed calmer afterward.

There was no word from Triss, and as days turned into a week, Yennefer could only hope that she was on her way to Kaer Morhen.

* * *

“Yennefer.”

Jaskier’s unsteady voice pulled her from her gloomy thoughts - of how terribly bored and frustrated she was - and she turned to see the bard peering from the doorway.

“What is it, Jaskier?”

“Where’s my lute?”

She pointed to the instrument, lying on a table. Jaskier limped toward it - picking it up and cuddling it to his chest.

“Yennefer?”

“Yes, Jaskier?”

“Thank you.” Then he turned sharply and limped away.

She watched him go, then sighed softly. When Geralt had first brought the bard to her, when they’d faced against the Djinn, she couldn’t figure the relationship between the two of them. But it was starting to become annoyingly clear that it was just something about the bard that attracted people to him. Because she was starting to feel it as well.

“Damn bard,” she grumbled softly. Then she stood and followed after him, sitting in the corner of the room where he was softly playing his lute, not singing, just running his hands over the strings. He didn’t look up as she entered, which she considered to be an improvement over previous days when he would have jumped and looked around in fright.

But he seemed to have finally started relaxing around her, and if that excited her, she’d never admit it.


	4. Chapter 4

Kaer Morhen was exactly as Triss had expected. Cold, worn, and lonesome. She wrapped her fur coat more tightly around herself, shivering as she walked up the path to the main door. Knocking on it seemed a bit ridiculous, after all, it was the sort of door that was traditionally only closed during sieges.

She studied the door for a moment, then sent up a flair of fire. Surely they would see that and understand. Although it was also possible they would assume they were under attack and kill her without looking. 

Thankfully, the Witchers proved to be a thoughtful lot, and a side door creaked open. “Triss?”

“Eskel? Vesemir?” Gerald was the Witcher she knew best, Eskel she had only met in passing, and Vesemir she’d met a small handful of times. There was no sign of the others, neither Lambert nor Geralt.

They led her inside, where it was marginally warmer, but she kept her cloak wrapped around herself.

“Where’s Geralt?” Triss asked.

Vesemir and Eskel exchanged long glances.

She sighed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I won’t ask. I know he’s hiding. But please, tell him-” she swallowed “-Oh, well, ah, heh-” she shook her head “-damn.”

“Triss.”

She turned quickly, her shoulder slumping with relief at the familiar sight of the Witcher. “Geralt!”

“What is it?” He appeared to be trying to block the doorway with his hulking frame, but Triss couldn’t miss the small face peeking out from behind him, wide blue eyes taking her in curiously.

She covered her eyes with her hand. “I see nothing,” she said. “I will say nothing to anyone about that - but listen to me-” she swallowed, thinking over how to say what needed to be said. “Yennefer sent me,” Triss said finally. “Nilfgard took your friend, they took Julian-”

“Julian?” Geralt asked, confusion showing in his tone.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz,” Triss said. “The bard?”

“ _Jaskier_?”

“Yes, him!” she cried. “Yenna found him, rescued him-”

“Yennefer rescued Jaskier?” Geralt sounded as though he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

“She’s not happy about it, but yes,” Triss said, painfully aware that a child was going to hear what she said. “Geralt, he’s mad.”

“Yeahhh,” the Witcher said slowly. “We ah, we didn’t part on the best of terms-”

“No Geralt, he’s _gone mad_ \- he’s - he’s out of his mind.”

“Insane,” supplied Eskel, rather unhelpfully.

Geralt was silent. She heard him murmur something to the child, then soft footsteps hurrying away. Then he said, “Uncover your eyes, Triss. Tell me everything.”

Triss slowly lowered her hand from her face. The three Witchers were staring at her, waiting for an explanation. “They thought he would know where to find you,” she said. “And, ah- the child that doesn’t exist.”

“Princess Cirilla is dead.”

“Yes, may she rest in peace,” Triss muttered. She sighed, bracing herself for what she was going to say, and mentally cursing Yennefer for forcing her to bring the news. “They captured him. Tortured him. We- we don’t know how long. He’s fallen apart. He won’t let anyone near him, he weeps, he cries- and sometimes, sometimes he’s…. Quiet. Too quiet.”

Geralt was still.

She swallowed, looking down at her clasped hands. “Geralt, Yenna sent me because- oh she won’t admit it, but she’s worried about him.” Triss took a deep breath. He needed to know - and he would find out eventually - but that didn’t make it any easier. “When she found him, they’d given up on extracting any information from. Instead, they were using him as - they were raping him, Geralt. They were just planning to keep him as some - some perverted toy. Oh! Vesemir, catch him!”

Geralt had gone very, very still, and very, very pale, but at the end of her story, he almost seemed to lose his balance. Vesemir grabbed his arm, resting his on hand on his back, looking at Triss with heartbroken eyes.

“This is my fault,” snarled Geralt.

“This is not your fault!” Triss argued, stepping forward.

Vesemir tightened his grip as Geralt tried to pull away, murmuring, “Easy, there.”

“How long? How long did they-”

“His last known performance was shortly after the Battle of Sodden,” she said softly. “He attended one, then vanished before his scheduled appearance the next night.”

“Eight months,” Eskel said quietly. He moved to stand on Geralt’s other side, not touching him, but seeming to lend him support either way.

“You said he’s in Temeria?”

“Yes,” Triss nodded.

“Can you open a portal?”

“You hate portals,” interjected Eskel.

Geralt ignored him. “Triss?”

“Of course, but-”

“But what?!”

“The girl!” Triss cried, pointing over his shoulder. “You can’t leave her!”

“So I’m supposed to abandon Jaskier?!”

Vesemir and Eskel exchanged glances. “Bring him here,” said Vesemir. “And the sorceress too, if there’s any chance they know of her involvement.”


End file.
